


Always There (For You)

by Vinge90



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood and Injury, F/M, Gen, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Langst, Mentioned Coran (Voltron), Mentioned Hunk (Voltron), Mentioned Keith (Voltron), Mentioned Pidge | Katie Holt, Mentioned Shiro (Voltron), Violence, allurance, cheesy as all heck, oh god so cheesy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28273296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vinge90/pseuds/Vinge90
Summary: ”I'll slow them down! Go!””No! You won't-””Princess, please!””Lance-”A flash of light. Gunfire. White-hot pain, a scream-”Lance!”
Relationships: Allura/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	Always There (For You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IcyPanther](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/gifts).



> This is a little fic for IcyPanther for the Secret Santa-event she hosted on her Patreon, and I'd just like to say that I'm so incredibly honored to have been the one to write for you, Icy!
> 
> I feel like I could've done a lot better, but I tried my best. It's been a very, very long time since I last wrote anything fanfiction-like and writing roleplay-replies isn't quite the same thing. I feel like I've learned quite a bit, though. It was a very interesting and different experience and I hope that the next time I write fanfiction, whenever that might be, that it'll be...well. Just a little bit better. Anyway!
> 
> Merry Christmas, Icy!!

_”We have to go! Now!”_

_”Hurry!”_

_”-next left, almost-”_

_”-too many of them!”_

_”I'll slow them down! Go!”_

_”No! You won't-”_

_”Princess, please!”_

_”Lance-”_

_A flash of light. Gunfire. White-hot pain, a **scream** \--_

_**”Lance!”** _

His eyes snap open as he jerks awake, a gasp tearing through the otherwise silent cell and startling his companion into attention. There's a voice, soft and gentle, but the words are difficult to make out through the panic and confusion and fear and _pain_ coursing through his every nerve and vein and it's only when a hand brushes against his cheek that he finds his gaze darting upwards to meet familiar eyes.

”A...Allura...?”

The relief on her face is so strong that Lance feels like if he reaches out, he might just be able to touch it. 

”Wh...” His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, voice scratchy and hoarse and grating at his dry and...sore throat. Lance's brows furrow in growing confusion and he pushes through the haze laying thick across his mind in an attempt to figure out _what's going on_. It's difficult, thoughts a muddled mess that won't let him piece together anything more than _tired, sluggish, **pain.**_ It hurts. Thinking hurts. His body hurts. _Everything_ hurts. 

His armor is missing. Something sticky is covering his back. His leg, too, but when he lifts his head, shifts his body to take a look, his vision _whites out_ from the sudden onslaught of what feels like _fire_ exploding throughout his lower body and there's a shout of alarm from somewhere beside him before hands, both of them this time, grasp his cheeks, his head, and guides him back down into the same position on his side as before. Allura is speaking, again, but he can't make out what she's saying between the ringing in his ears and his own too-fast, too-shallow gasps and whimpers. Her tone is soft, though, _soothing_ through the pain, and Lance closes his eyes, focuses on that. 

It helps.

”-will be alright, the others will come for us-”

He lets out a trembling breath, blue eyes fluttering open after what feels like vargas (but might as well only be doboshes) later. It hurts, still, horribly so, and though he wants to know what could have happened to him that even a single movement sends him into such _debilitating pain_ , he's learned his lesson. He won't move.

(He _can't_ move.)

Instead, Lance focuses his gaze on Allura.

The relief he found before is gone, replaced with utter worry and concern, and though this situation is hardly ideal for it, Lance can't help the way his heart _warms_ at the sight, to have that look aimed his way. Dirt stains her face, and there's a scratch on her cheek, and some of her hair has gotten loose from her now-messy bun, but she's still so incredibly beautiful. A smile suits her so much better than the worried furrow of her brow she's wearing now, though.

”Hey--” 

The sound of Lance's voice has Allura startling just a tad, eyes widening minutely when she realizes that he's more aware and coherent than before. 

”C'mon, Princess... Turn that frown upside down. For me...?” 

He smiles, or, rather, _tries_ to. It's more a slight tug of the corners of his mouth than the playful grin he would've otherwise aimed at her. It seems to do the trick, though. Allura blinks down at him, confusion flashing across her face at the unfamiliar phrase, and it's only the tone of Lance's voice and the attempt of a smile that has her sagging forward ever so slightly a few moments later, the trembling breath of a soft laugh escaping her lips.

”Lance...” 

The tinge of relief and exasperation that accompanies his name is music to Lance's ears.

But then Allura lifts her gaze and the shimmer of fear and pain therein has his breath catching in his throat, his attempt of a smile fading.

”You're hurt,” she states, quiet in the dark of their cell.

Lance blinks, slowly. He knows, of course, but the statement still catches him off guard nonetheless.

”...Yeah. I-”

”I tried to stop the bleeding,” Allura continues, interrupts before he can finish, and the look in her eyes, the tremble in her voice, makes him stay silent, and he swallows around the sudden tightness in his throat. ”But I... I-I don't know if...”

She doesn't finish that sentence and perhaps that's for the best, because...

Because Lance isn't sure he wants to know what she was about to say.

He knows he's hurt. It's a fact he established quite early upon waking up. 

He knows he's hurt _badly_. He'd be able to, at the very least, _lift his head if he wasn't_ , and Allura wouldn't act the way she is, look at him the way she is, if he wasn't.

That, more than anything else, is what makes him realize the severity of the situation, the reality of what might happen if help doesn't arrive soon, and it makes him feel nauseous, makes his body go cold with fear-

-but, then again, that might just be the loss of blood. It's hard to tell the difference anymore.

Allura must see the way his expression changes, the tinge of panic in his eyes, because before he knows it, her hands are there, again, stroking against his cheek and brushing through his hair, and she's whispering, trembling words that he can't quite make out but knows are meant to soothe. She's so tender and kind even at a time where she must be just as terrified as Lance is. It reminds him, not for the first time, of how strong she is.

...Even when she shouldn't have to be.

”We will get out,” Lance faintly hears Allura murmur. ”And everything will be alright. They-”

The moment doesn't last.

They don't hear the heavy footsteps approach the door to their cell until it's _slammed_ open, making them both flinch and direct their eyes towards the large Galra officer looming before them and the handful of sentries standing ready behind him. There's nothing but silence as those cold yellow eyes scan Allura up and down, before glancing down at Lance to do the same.

For several long moments, all the Galra does is stare.

...And then he tilts his head, motions towards Lance, and when the sentries start to move towards him, all hell breaks loose. 

The sound that tears its way past Allura's throat is nothing short of a feral _scream_ , any sense of royal dignity and poise gone as she leaps across Lance's body for one of the sentries at the very same moment that an _explosion_ rocks the ship, throwing everyone in the small room off balance and off guard and Lance rolling across the hard ground with a strangled cry that catches in his throat the instant he hits the wall. 

His vision goes fuzzy and dark as his lungs seize in his chest and he can't see, can't _breathe_ , knows nothing except the _white-hot fire_ enveloping every single inch of his body. There's an odd, roaring noise in his ears, like the deafening sound of a waterfall, and Lance dazedly wonders if he's _drowning._

But that doesn't make _sense._

After all, he and Allura were-

He gasps, chokes on the air that he's suddenly able to get down into his lungs again, coughs and spits out the bile in his mouth and _forces_ wet eyes open to blurrily look around the room, desperate for any sight of familiar white hair. The sound of a fist against flesh, of a cry and a shout, catches his attention despite the roaring sound overpowering most anything else around him, and Lance jerks his head in that direction, pushes through the burst of pain exploding through his skull at the movement. 

Sentries litter the ground, some of them missing limbs, others having fist-shaped dents in their torsos, but all of them rendered twitching and sparking and _useless._

It's impressive, and for a few ticks, Lance is struck speechless.

But then a voice echoes throughout the cell, a cry of frustration and anger and pain, audible through the growing chaos outside, and it's horrifyingly _familiar_. It fills him with terror and determination alike and he reaches a trembling hand for one of the downed sentries' guns before he can so much as think about it.

Then again, what _is_ there to think about?

It's heavy, feels strange in his grip, but if he gets close enough, none of that will matter. Just aim and shoot. Even in this state, he can at the very least do that.

No, the problem isn't what to do.

It's how to _get_ to where he needs to be.

It isn't far and the cell door is wide open, but it feels like crawling up a mountain during a _storm,_ cold sweat dripping into unfocused blue eyes, breathing shallow, and nausea building with every passing moment as he _drags_ himself across the ground, a trail of blood smeared behind him. Dark spots are dancing across his vision and he wants to scream and it feels like he's going to throw up, but he can't stop. He can't, he can't, _he can't-_

He's there. 

Just outside the cell, it opens up into a large and open space that Lance, at first, isn't entirely sure what it might be used for until he notices the dark stains on the floor, some clearly more fresh than others. And there is Allura, standing several feet away from the Galra who'd first entered their cell. There are bruises blooming on her face, blood dripping from her lip, and she's clearly putting a little more weight on one leg than the other, but her expression is one of pure _determination_ as she lunges at the Galra. She gives as good as she gets, sometimes even _more_ so, but he's strong, and far more sturdy than one might think at first glance, and when her leg buckles ever so slightly beneath her, it gives the Galra an opening and he pulls his arm back, claws glinting _deadly_ and _sharp._

Lance's hands are shaking as he pulls the gun up, narrows his eyes in an attempt to steady his tilting vision, to _focus_ , but there's not enough time to aim properly and he _fires._

It grazes the Galra's neck, deep and painful enough that he jerks his hand up to press against the heavily bleeding wound and it gives Allura the opportunity she needs. Lance's vision darkens before he can see her come out of that fight victorious (because he knows she will be, she _has_ to be) and he slumps forward, his borrowed gun clattering across the floor just as another explosion rocks the ship.

It's so easy to fall into the soothing depths of unconsciousness.

_”-when-”_

_”Do you think-”_

_”-okay? There's no permanent damage, right-”_

_”C'mon, buddy, wake up-”_

_”-wake up-”_

_”Lance-”_

_**”Lance.”** _

The sound of the cryopod 'whoosh'ing open is a familiar one that Lance doubts he'll ever get used to, nor the bone-chilling _cold_ that only the warmth of Hunk's specially made cocoa can chase away or the _exhaustion_ that follows a long time spent healing inside the claustrophobically small pod. No, no matter how many times he's spent (and probably _will_ spend) inside that thing, he'll never get used to it or learn to like it.

...There is one thing, though, that he won't mind getting used to.

And that's the people waiting for him, arms open and inviting and warm, and as he falls into Hunk's embrace, feels his best friend cry into his hair and Pidge and Coran and Shiro and Keith crowd around him, he knows that there's no place else he'd rather be.

And when he lifts his gaze to meet Allura's own from where she stands a little further away, when he finally sees that _smile_ spreading across her face as he holds an arm out for her and draws her in the moment she gets close enough, he knows.

_Everything will **always** be alright._

**Author's Note:**

> Super duper cheesy ending, but that's how it is!
> 
> If you want to check out my roleplay blog or come scream at me at just about anything, you can find me at awkwardxmon.tumblr.com. Have a very merry Christmas, everyone!


End file.
